The Lion Forgives
by WingedFlight
Summary: Formerly Narnian Memories - Polly visits Digory and meets the Pevensies - and learns something astonishing. And can the Pevensies help Polly to heal old wounds?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **_Well, I feel really stupid - the first time I uploaded this story, I accidently uploaded a different story which inspired this one. My apologies to everyone. Here's the REAL Narnian Memories. _

_Also, this is part of my Narnian Characters Challenge (#4-Polly Plummer). _

_Sadly, I do not own CoN. That belongs to CS Lewis. _

I enter the front hall directly behind MacCready, sighing in delight as I take in the high ceilings, art, and ancient artefacts; it's good to be back. For years after Digory's family had moved to the country estate, I had spent a few weeks of each summer up here. This was where I had learned to swim, to ride a horse, to climb trees – all 'proper' things to know, as Digory had always joked.

Now I stand in the middle of the hall as the memories come flooding back to me once more. Why had I stopped coming here? All those worries, all the quarrels – they seemed so insignificant now.

"Polly!"

Digory appears at the top of the stairs, arms spread wide, a smile lit upon his face. He looks older now - older and more worn. I have the uncomfortable feeling that my refusal to come visit was the cause of some of those wrinkles, but I push the feeling away to deal with later.

"Polly, my dear friend, you haven't changed a bit!"

I laugh and tell him to stop fibbing. We both know I'm older; just as Digory has aged, so have I. I have my own share of wrinkles and grey hairs to worry about.

"I want you to meet the children," Digory tells me, the twinkle in his eye whispering of a secret. I follow him into a side room – one of the many sitting rooms in the house. There sit the four children from London Digory had offered to take in.

There is something about the children, something I cannot express, that is different from others. I cannot tell what, exactly, it is about them – a tilt of the chin, perhaps? Or maybe the set of their shoulders, or a look in their eye?

As Digory closes the door behind me, the oldest, a boy with golden blond hair and shining blue eyes, stands and reaches out to shake my hand.

"You must be Miss. Plummer," he says warmly. The clasp of his hand is firm; I cannot help but compare his clasp to that of a grown man – they are much the same. "I am Peter," he adds, "Peter Pevensie."

"Hello, Peter," I reply, "I am very pleased to meet you."

"As am I," he responds, giving me the strange, yet unshakeable impression that he is more man than boy. "Let me introduce you to my siblings; Susan," he gestures to the oldest girl, with the long, black hair, "Edmund," the other boy, with hair as dark as his sister's, "and Lucy," the youngest girl, with hair the colour of sunshine, and joy shining in her eyes. Lucy leaps to her feet.

"Greetings, my Lady," she exclaims, "I have heard great things about you, and am pleased to finally make your acquaintance. I trust there were no difficulties on the journey here?"

I am too shocked to say anything. Her words, which would have sounded silly in any other mouth, sound natural, as if she had spoken in that manner all her life.

"Lucy," Peter warns softly under his breath.

Lucy colours slightly and says hastily, "Sorry. I forgot," before turning back to me. "I really am pleased to meet you," she says, before sitting again.

Her mature manner and way of speech confuses me, and I sit down slowly. I ponder Lucy's manner, which, like Peter, seems so grown up. For that matter, all four of the children have that mature air about them. What was going on?

As I take a seat, I glance at Digory, but he doesn't seem to find the behaviour strange. Of course, I doubt he would find _anything_ strange, especially after the incident with the rings in our youth.

Now, all he does is pass around the tea, as if this were any ordinary visit. There's quiet for a moment as the children pour their tea carefully into their cups. Digory passes me a cup.

"Thank you, Digory," I say, pleased to have a hot drink on this rainy day.

There's a clatter as Peter drops his cup, tea splashing across the rug. "Lion's mane," he mutters as he drops to the ground to mop up the spill. As he does so, he looks up to Digory, astonishment in his eyes. "Digory," he repeats in amazement. "You never told us your name was Digory."

"I don't suppose I did," Digory remarks.

Peter turns to me. "And your name is Polly," he states.

I nod my assent, and Edmund nearly chokes on his tea, as Susan and Lucy both gasp in amazement, for no reason I can see.

Peter begins talking excitedly. "So you are the Lord Digory and the Lady Polly, who came into the world at the beginning of time! Or at least," he adds, "not our world, but Narnia."

Narnia. I haven't thought of Narnia for a long time, and haven't heard anyone speak of it for longer. "What do you know of Narnia?" I ask.

The four of them laugh, and even Digory chuckles softly. "You remember our Narnian apple tree?" he asks. I nod – how could I forget? He continues, "When the tree blew down, I had it make into a wardrobe."

I nod again, intrigued as to where this is going.

Peter sits down again. "Shall we tell the Lady Polly of our story, Professor?" he asks in a manner that reminds me of courtiers and medieval times.

"I don't see why not," Digory answers calmly.

"Before I can ask what they mean – not that I haven't already half guesses – Lucy sits up in a way that conveys many years of practise at storytelling, and begins.

"It was the day after we arrived at the Professor's house," she starts, in a way that suggests she has told this particular story countless times before, although I was fairly sure the children had only arrived less than a week ago, "It was raining, and there was nothing for us to do…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Second chapter's up. YAY. Just a note, yes, there is christianity in here. Sorry if that's not exactly your thing... and sorry this chapter's a bit short, I promise the next one's longer.

The Pevensies have gone up to bed, quietly and without complaint, leaving Digory and myself to sit at the fireside, pondering their story.

"Do you really think it happened?" I find myself asking.

Digory blinks owlishly and turns to me in surprise. "Don't you believe them?"

He doesn't understand what I'm asking. I barely understand, myself. "I believe the Pevensies without a doubt," I reply quickly. "I just don't know if…" I trail off, unable to verbalize my uncertainty.

Digory waits patiently, understanding my need to put my thoughts into order.

"Aslan died to save Edmund," I think aloud. "I can accept that. After all, Lucy and Susan saw it happen, and if I can believe they went to Narnia – and I can – then I can believe they saw Aslan's sacrifice."

Digory nods and I continue, "So if Aslan died and rose again in Narnia, does that mean he could just as easily have done that here?"

Digory smiles as he sees what I was leading up to. "Of course," he answers gently. "Do _you_ see it now? Do _you_ believe?"

I don't answer right away, instead thinking back to that time, nearly ten years ago…

"_Polly!" Digory exclaimed, bursting into my room where I was packing up for the journey home. "Polly, look what I've found!"_

_I looked up from my suitcase to see him standing over me with a thick book in his hands. He flipped it open to a previously marked page and began reading, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God."_

"_Digory," I tried to interrupt, but he kept reading._

"_All things were made by him – did you hear that, Polly? - __**all things were made by him**__; and without him was __**not anything made that was made**__. In him was life; and -"_

_I cut him off again. "Digory, this really isn't a good time right now. I need to catch the train."_

"_But Polly, you have to hear this last part -"_

_I stopped what I was doing for a moment and faced him. "Digory, stop it!" I exclaimed. "He's not here. He's in Narnia. Just because you see something pretty, or read something inspiring doesn't mean he's here too!"_

_Then, leaving Digory stunned speechless, I picked up my bags and stormed from the room…_

"I'm sorry, Digory," I say suddenly, "but I don't know if I'm ready."

"Ready?" Digory repeats, not following my train of thought.

I take a deep breath. "I'm just not sure if I'm quite ready to believe – no, that's no right. I _do_ believe it's him, now. I'm just not ready to -"

"Give yourself up to Him?" Digory suggests.

"Yes," I say with a sigh, thankful he understands.

He smiles gently. "It's only a matter of time now, Polly," he assures me. "Believing is the first step. After that, everything else follows."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Just a couple things to mention: 1. I'm just guessing Edmund is 11 at the time of this story. If I'm wrong - and I probably am - could someone let me know, and tell me what the right age is? Thanks. 2. I apologise if i sounded a little harsh in my author's note for the second chapter. I was tired when I was writing it, and i'm afraid it may sound offensive. I'll go back and change it so it doesn't sound so bad. And 3. I like reviews,, because they help me write better! PLEASE REVIEW. And thanks to Don-Jam for reviewing on the first two chapters.

I try to stay quiet as I make my way down to the kitchen. It's early morning, and I don't wish to wake anyone for the sake of my hot cocoa. I certainly am not expecting anyone to be awake yet, so it's a surprise when I enter the kitchen to hear the sound of the kettle whistling on the stove.

Edmund is seated at the kitchen table, a book resting on the table before him. He looks up as I enter the room, and laughs at my surprised expression.

"I've always been a bit of an early riser," he explains, standing to take the kettle off the stove. "Cup of tea?" he offers, pouring a cup for himself.

"Cocoa, actually," I respond, feeling very much at home. "And you don't need to go to any trouble for me; I can make it."

"Nonsense!" laughs Edmund. "You sit down. This isn't too much trouble at all – unless you don't believe a king of Narnia would know how to make cocoa."

"They have cocoa in Narnia?" I ask in surprise as I seat myself as instructed.

"Well, not exactly," Edmund admits. "More like cups of steaming chocolate, but that's not the point. What I mean is, it isn't too hard to prepare a hot cocoa. Pour the mix, add the water, stir – cream?" I nod. He takes the ceramic jug and adds a dollop of cream. "And ta-da! One cup of steaming hot cocoa, compliments of the Just." He sets the cup down in front of me, then sits in his own seat across the table, cradling his tea in his hands.

"Morning, Ed!" Lucy prances into the kitchen. "Morning, Miss Plummer. Is that hot cocoa I smell?"

"Good morning," I greet her. "Please, call me Aunt Polly."

"Good morning, Aunt Polly!" Lucy corrects herself quickly.

"So you're an early riser, too?" I assume.

Lucy grimaces. "Not really. I just couldn't sleep. The sheets feel awfully scratchy compared to Narnian quality."

I doubt it's the sheets that bother her most, but I don't say anything, enjoying instead the peaceful mood of the kitchen.

"It's been so long since I've been here," I say instead. "It's good to be back."

"Did you used to come here often?" Lucy asks from the stove, where she's making her own cup of cocoa.

"Yes." I smile and the memories. "I'd spend a part of every summer up here."

"Why did you stop?" Edmund asks, looking up from his book.

I almost tell them it isn't a story for children, but then I remember I'm not exactly talking to children, but rather a king and queen.

"Digory and I got into a bit of a disagreement," I admit, "It was rather silly, now that I think back to it."

"Oh, what happened?" Lucy cries, sitting beside Edmund. She blows on her cocoa to cool it, and then waits with eyes wide with concern.

I feel reluctant to relive my memory with them, but find myself telling everything that had happened.

"Digory always seemed to be thinking of Aslan; seeing His work," I explained after. "Everywhere we went, Digory would point out something – be it a cluster of primroses, or a clear, starry night sky – and would remark that only Aslan could make something so beautiful. At first I had marvelled at his ability to see Aslan in the little things, but after a while, it grew tiring. Maybe it was because I was jealous of his simple ability to see Aslan's work everywhere.

"Perhaps I wouldn't have gotten so annoyed if I had gotten a good night's sleep, or if I wasn't quite so busy with packing, but who knows? Maybe it would have happened at a different time." I sighed and fell silent, my previous good mood replaced by one of regret.

"And now you wonder if maybe Digory was right," Edmund assumes.

Lucy is already shaking her head as I reply. "No, I believe now. I accept that Aslan and Jesus are one."

Edmund frowns slightly. "There's still a problem, though," he guessed. I grimaced.

Lucy speaks up. "He'll forgive you," she says softly. Something about her expression tells me she's thinking of Aslan rather than Digory.

Edmund understands who she means, too. "I say, yes," he adds quickly. "Look at me. I've been forgiven for much worse."

I look at the two of them. Both look so young, it's easy to forget that these two helped rule a country for nearly fifteen years.

"Thank you both so much," I say warmly.

Lucy beams, shattering the serious mood around us. "No, thank you!" she replies, "For coming to see us. After all, it's not every day we get to meet someone of legend!"

_An interesting perspective,_ I think as I stand. _I certainly don't feel very legendary._ Who would have thought my visit to Narnia with Digory would be remembered thousands of years after the event?

"Here," Edmund offers, and holds out the book he had been reading. "This might help."

I take it to see I hold a Bible. I would have been surprised to see any other 10 year old with a Bible, but not with Edmund. Instead, I take it with gratitude.

Had I been offered this book even a week before, I would have refused it. Now, I might even give it a try.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay in getting this last part up. There's really no excuse for my delay. But here it is at last! Enjoy!

(And yes, I did put in Mere Christianity out of all the books because of the author hehe. I couldn't help it.)

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I entered the library, where Digory was bent over a book, chuckling softly to himself. "Marvellous!" he was muttering. "What unquestionable logic!"

"Digory," I said softly, standing at the door.

Digory looked up in surprise. "Polly!" he exclaimed happily. "Come see this. He's quite good. Got it exactly right!"

I came over to the desk and looked down at the book he was holding. It was fairly new, the binding not yet cracked. I looked at the title. "Mere Christianity?"

"Go on, take a look!" Digory urged, handing the book to me. I had to put Edmund's bible down on the table to flip through the pages.

"I know you don't like it when I talk about this sort of thing, Polly," Digory apologized quietly when I didn't say anything.

"No," I replied. "It's all right. I don't mind anymore."

Digory beamed. "I don't suppose you'd like to read it?" he asked doubtfully. "It's quite good – explains quite a lot in a way that is quite easy to follow."

I laughed. "My second reading assignment of the day."

Digory glanced over at the book I had set down on the edge of the desk. "A bible?" he asked in surprise. "Who -?"

"Edmund," I answered, understanding Digory's amazement. I set his book down on the table beside the bible and turned to him. "I need to apologize, Digory," I added, in a more serious tone.

Digory looked up at me in surprise. "Apologize?" he repeated. "Whatever for? Did you eat one of Macready's pies?"

"No," I answered, a smile briefly lighting my face. "For before. For not believing you, and getting mad at you for talking about… well, for talking about this sort of thing." I held up the two books.

Digory stood up and gently took my hands. "I forgive you, Polly, as I'm sure He will, if you ask Him."

I didn't need to ask who Digory meant, but still hesitated. "But I don't – I mean, I can't -"

"You need help?" Digory asked, understanding my hesitation.

I nodded silently.

"Well, then," Digory cleared his throat and began to pray. "Father," he began, "Time and again you show your love to us most of all when Your son hung on the cross…"

I closed my eyes, listening to Digory's humble prayer. His age-roughened hands were warm around my own.

"…and we pray, Father, that you forgive Polly of her sins, of which she repents, and shine Your light in her heart. In you, always in you we pray, Amen."

"Amen," I repeated, dropping my hands as Digory let go, and opening my eyes. I took a deep breath as peace filled me – quiet, simple peace. My eyes swept the room, alighting on a painting across from me – the depiction of a lion.

"Thank you, Digory," I murmured, my heart expanding as I thought of all his patience towards my disbelief, patience that had been awarded today.

"Praise the lion," he replied simply, following my gaze.

"Praise the lion."

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So that's the end of this story. I hope you enjoyed it, and reviews are always welcome!


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